


Narcissus II: Back from the Future

by LelithSugar



Series: Double Jeopardy [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, And Lots of It, Bottom!Harry, Comedy, Dirty Talk, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Humor, M/M, Masturbation, Mild S&M, Mutual Masturbation, Not Canon Compliant, Oral Sex, Paradox, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn, Selfcest, Shameless Smut, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Time Travel, Voyeurism, attempt at sci-fi, mild bondage, plus some Eggsy/Eggsy, pure filth, reverse egg sandwich, taking liberties with physics, this scene's got it, you name it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 21:44:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14341533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LelithSugar/pseuds/LelithSugar
Summary: As Hemingway would have it, true nobility lies in being superior to your former self.And boy, does Eggsy have a few things to show his former self.





	Narcissus II: Back from the Future

**Author's Note:**

> Because the concept of Hartwin misusing time travel technology to have every variation of threesome possible is too much for me to leave alone.
> 
> The rumours are true: I am indeed working on a double-Harry installment of this series and had every intention of posting it before this one, but my Harry-narration voice abandoned me this week and lo and behold, Eggsy refused to shut up. So, the other is coming, and you're welcome to come and harass me about it on tumblr ([ randomactsofviolence ](https://randomactsofviolence.tumblr.com/)). In the meantime, have some porn.
> 
> All my thanks to Addie for getting me writing this little verse, it's a joy.

Narcissus II: Back from the Future

 

Harry has been in the shower for at least twenty minutes, and Eggsy is staring at the en suite door with the single minded absorption of a man on a promise when his own voice speaks from behind him. 

“You need to put - Stop screaming it's me - you need to put water down for JB, I forgot we'd moved the bowl and landed in it.”

Eggsy flails backwards From where he's prematurely launched his near-naked and unarmed defences on his time traveling future self, which would be far harder to process  had he not encountered the situation previously. Seeing him the first time had been really, really weird: this time the interruption is just a bit rude. Plus, it scared the fucking daylights out of him.

“Did you just fucking meme at me? I could have killed you, you bellend! I could have had a heart attack and died.”

“Well obviously you couldn't or I wouldn't be here to give you one.” He breaks into a smirk and waggles his eyebrows. “Talking of giving you one, do you wanna tell Harry I'm here or get started without him?”

Eggsy's back-from-the-future self grins at him in a way that strongly suggests Eggsy is going to get, or has got, well over his already hazy compunctions about getting off with another version of himself by whenever he's been sent back from this time. However, at this exact moment the specific brand of weirdness has caught him right off guard and although he wasn't exactly  _ not _ in the mood, considering he was waiting up with intent, he's not exactly up for his future self’s shit either. 

“Could you not like, let us know you were coming?”

“You've got no idea how this works,  have you.”

“Not at all and I don't want any, thanks.” Eggsy only took double-award science for a reason: he hates physics. Harry likes to point this out when Eggsy pulls particularly gravity defying jumps as though his refusal to properly understand gravity stops it affecting him. The way he sees it, all that just is what it is whether he gets involved with it or not, and the less he knows about how unlikely success is the better. Bumblebees don't give a fuck that they ain't supposed to be able to fly, it works out alright for them. 

The shower shuts off and Eggsy decides to spare Harry having the shit scared out of him, so he calls out before he hears the door: “Harry! We've got company!”

Harry's voice rumbles, unfazed and warm, from the bathroom.

“In the ' _ someone at the door, put some clothes on _ ’ sort of way,  or the ‘ _ get your gun _ ’ sort of way?”

“In the Quantum Leap sort of way.”

It goes very, very quiet. 

Harry emerges from the bathroom backlit in a frame full of steam, hair slicked to one side with just the water from his shower, towel secured firmly around his hips in a way that shows a lot of leg - not that anything Harry has ever done had not showcased more leg than was in any way reasonable - and fixes a calm, dark look on the two copies of his lover.

He can easily tell the difference because one Eggsy is sitting on the bed in shocking pink boxers with neon green dinosaurs on them, more or less exactly where he left him, and the other is wearing a full single breasted suit and tie. 

“Well, I must say you're a darn sight prettier than Scott Bakula’s been since the late eighties. To what do we owe the pleasure?”

Suit-Eggsy from the future steps over to kiss him in greeting. 

“'Allo babes. Now. Merlin is going to need a pretty major favour off you tomorrow afternoon, and you're going to wink and say it's no problem. And then on 4th December you’re going to remind him about that favour he owes you and imply that you were very ably persuaded to help him by a very unexpected visitor, wink wink, might he have any idea what you mean?”

“He doesn't know about last time, yet…”

“No, but he will by December. And he's told you what he's working on?” Harry nods. “He just thinks I don't know, right now. Your right now, not mine.” 

Harry takes a second to process as much as he needs to to get on board, finds the logic sound, and squeezes Future-Eggsy's arse, getting a wet handprint on his suit as he kisses his jaw. Once again, Eggsy finds himself simultaneously inappropriately, pointlessly jealous and confusingly turned on. Only one of those feelings is going to get him anywhere good so he rolls with the latter and just watches.

“Nothing too awful, I gather?”

“Nah,  just ball ache and paperwork. You'd probably do it anyway. But don't tell him that."

Harry looks unconvinced. “Must be something major if he's willing to send you on a transdimensional honeypot mission to talk me into it.”

“Nah. I pitched in with some archiving so I'm in his good books too, plus I've been on at him about organising a Secret Santa all fucking day. Don't forget, by where I'm at he's known since September that you've actually known since March, so it's an easy win win for him.”   

At this point, Eggsy would benefit from a diagram if he actually cared.

“And presumably I've reminded him about this favour when you just so happen to be at a loose end and he needs you out of… his… hair?”

They all crack up. Far be it from Eggsy and Harry to fail to lower the tone when it's needed. Eggsy’s always amazed by how many people the gentlemanly exterior fools: Harry is an absolute shit and it’s probably part of why they work so well; they’re as bad as each other. 

“Yeah, you got it.”

But then if It's December when...and he's… no, wait, right, Eggsy gets it too. He's caught up. Maybe. As if it matters: he was distinctly about to get some and he's not about to get cockblocked by the sudden arrival of himself, so the way his future self is loosening his tie has to mean business.

Does it really look like that? Christ, no wonder that move has never failed. That’s a bit much, ain’t it, getting a little swoon on for the way you strip, but it’s working for everyone in the room, so whatever.

Future-Eggsy pops the button underneath. “Now if I remember correctly, we spent a while after the first time there were two of me talking about other ways that could've gone down.”

It's weird, thinking that this effective stranger actually knows everything about them, and then some. By that token Eggsy knows everything about him, bar about twelve weeks by the sound of it, but it still feels unfair. Like he's got a head start.

And the thing is, they have been talking about it. Harry's waxed all sorts of fucking lyrical over how it felt to be sandwiched between two gorgeous bodies, how unworthy he felt of the privilege, how he felt perhaps he should have had to work a little harder for such a treat… all whist gradually lapsing into that tone of voice that sounded like it should come in very exaggerated quotation marks whilst someone gently elbowed you in the side. 

Harry had also been a bit hot for the idea that Future-Eggsy had come back not for any meaningful purpose but to use him for a shag and fuck off again, the equivalent of a nameless, casual hookup. They've talked about how Harry would feel falling asleep between two beautiful sated bodies, although it had turned out that wouldn't be the first time. Alright, fair enough then: how it would feel to fall asleep between two beautiful sated bodies and not wake up in a cold sweat to almost break your ankle in the remnants of a curtain in your desperation to vomit an inordinate amount of Pimms No. 1 into a bucket,  _f_ _ or fucks sake Eggsy stop laughing it was 1983. I defy you to have had any more dignity. No, that isn't a bet, please do not go back and try.  _

Harry seems to have had a lot of thoughts about it, all told. It's definitely added a completely gratuitous additional dimension, literally, to their already lively sex life. Eggsy's had a few daydreams too, and absolutely only once caught himself having a tug to a version of events in which he and the better toned, more confident future version of himself were snogging and fumbling and getting into a nice appealing position for Harry to ‘catch’ them in,  and the idea of that discover of the quasi-taboo had turned out to be one he quite liked, and he'd just …. never quite got to the bit where Harry would have been in it. But nobody's ever going to know about that. 

Except … unless there's been a mishap with some amnesia darts, the other him giving him that look right now knows all about it. Shit. 

Eggsy figures it's about time to go get them all a drink. There are less questions - or at least, less that require immediate answers - and less of a sense of hurry than last time, which also for him is presumably next time, in a way, because they're in the very last days of August, and the first time Eggsy came back was from September. 

He forgets about it for stretches of time but it's creeping closer. Work is quiet, Merlin nestled away working on a project Eggsy has to pretend he knows nothing about, even though the clues are all there now that he knows to look for them. Reasonably soon he's going to have to do some really decent acting when Merlin reveals all and he offers to run the test jumps, and then relatively soon after that it will all be revealed for a sham because he's going to come back from his third test jump covered in love bites - he flushes hot at the memory of how he and his other self had got stuck right in - and he must let on that he and harry have known it was coming ever since the time he sent him back to. Merlin must get over it pretty quick if they're all back on ‘loaning out time travel kit for a favour’ terms by December. 

Eggsy downs his drink and pours out another one. This shit is just all a bit much for him. He's just a simple lad who was about to get laid before they were so improbably interrupted. 

He returns with Harry's martini and two rum and slightly flat diet cokes for himself and… himself. He didn't ask but he's got no reason to believe he might change his go to tipple in the next couple of months. 

Shouldering the door open, he finds Future-Eggsy barefoot and jacketless, pressed up against all-but-naked Harry and kissing the absolute daylights out of him, like he hasn't seen him for a week or got any in a month. But after a couple of seconds of watching, getting warmer and warmer from the back of the neck out, he realises that's just how they always kiss. No wonder people keep telling them to get a room. Roxy actually chucked a glass of water over them once. 

“Do you have any idea how weird it is to walk in on your boyfriend making out with yourself?”

Harry pulls back just enough. 

“I'll remind you I once walked in on my boyfriend making out with  _ him _ self. It didn't end so badly, as I recall.”

Eggsy grins and hands him his perfectly mixed martini, which Harry takes an approving sip off before putting it on the dressing table and going back to groping Future-Eggsy, leaving the present version standing in his pants holding their drinks.

“Oh, don't mind me.”

“We won't,” smirks his future self, but turns enough in Harry's grasp to take his drink with a raise of his eyebrows in thanks.  _ You're welcome, mate.  _ Harry continues undressing him from behind, wrapping his arms around to work his way down December-Eggsy's shirt buttons whilst pressed up against his back, nuzzling at his neck. 

Eggsy sits down on the bed. It might not be a deliberate show… but then, it could be. It looks good anyway, the weathered elegance of Harry's hands skipping over the smooth cream of Future-Eggsy’s skin, following the blocky curve of his pecs to find his nipples as that Eggsy flicks his cufflinks out from his buttonholes, just in time for Harry to slide his shirt down his shoulders and off. All in hot, heavy silence but so coordinated, like they're dancing. 

They should go dancing… not ballroom but clubbing, so people can see them grind like that: Eggsy’s back against Harry's front, head dropped back against his shoulder and Harry's big, skillfull hands on his chest and hips, all transparent sex.  It's obvious, looking at the way they touch each other, the way they move, how good they must be together and if Eggsy were anyone else in the world he'd be jealous. As it is he has a bizarre urge to high five himself. 

No undershirt means he's got showered and dressed up before jumping back specifically to give Harry his suited form to strip like this. Flashy git. That's Harry rubbing off on him, that is. Harry is more or less actually rubbing off on him, for all the good that towel is doing and just as Eggsy thinks it, his other self reaches a hand back and pulls it free, leaving Harry naked and hard against December-Eggsy still half dressed and put together.

Well, there's a nice little turn up for the books. Very pretty. Eggsy slips a hand into his boxers and gives himself a bit of a squeeze, a little stroke. He's starting to ache.

Harry, in no rush despite his own undress, makes a meal out of unbuckling Future-Eggsy’s belt and staring at the curve of his arse as he works his trousers down. December-Eggsy’s boxers make looking anywhere else pretty difficult: they're vivid rainbow with black stripes between each colour and black piping. Strangely flattering. Amazing, he'll have to keep an eye out for those. 

Wait, what happens if he doesn't? They’re right there, so he has them in the future. What if he decides not to go to a single shop between now and December, would they magically turn up in a package at the door?

He's not quite curious enough to risk it, because the pants are mint. 

Harry remains interested in them only in the attention necessary to work his hand in via the waistband and cup Eggsy’s cock, which is quite predictably hard enough to give him a good handful and getting harder by the minute under his touch. 

Eggsy’s own boner is getting on the impatient, throbby side so - weirdly appealing as the view is - he decides to get involved. He necks his rum and coke and steps up to the front of his future self, handing Harry his martini from the desk with the clear intention of Harry drinking it whilst he watches both Eggsy’s touch each other up.  Works for everyone.

“Oh, this, this is too… Are you sure,” levels Harry, “that the favour Merlin owes me is for paperwork? You're sure I'm not about to pop my clogs, or be brutally tortured for days on end?”

The quick, happy flash of teeth from Future-Eggsy says it's all fine. “Definitely none of that. I can go get the handcuffs if you like though.”

Check him out, bowling in like he owns the place. “We ain't got handcuffs.”

December-Eggsy looks pointedly at Harry, who looks away, and then back with an amused purse of his lips. 

“Yeah you do.”

“ _ Really.” _

“Mm. August, August…whoops, not got to handcuffs yet.”  He walks his fingers up the back of Eggsy's arm and across his shoulders to play at the nape of his neck, and Eggsy thinks that's for Harry's benefit but it still makes all the hairs stand up and a nice little shiver run down his core. “But I know Harry has been spoiling you. Showing you how much he worships you.” He drops his voice a little further. “What a good slut he’ll be for you.”

Eggsy shudders properly. It's still pretty new to him, all this, but he's quickly discovering that Harry likes his sex dirtier than his martinis, and though he'd never thought to go looking for it, Eggsy finds himself getting off harder than he knew was possible over how shameless Harry can be for what he wants in bed. It makes him hot to think Harry’s been around a bit  - he has, to be fair - and knows what he wants, even when what he wants is for Eggsy to shove him around and call him names. Nothing too heavy: a hand in the hair here, a spank there, trying to walk the line where Harry knows how much he loves him but feels for a few minutes at a time like Eggsy might just be using him for his body because  _ Harry wants to let him _ . 

December-Eggsy slips his hand around his effective twin’s bare waist, cashing in on having them both hard and speechless to stage-whisper in his ear.

“Imagine how good he's going to be for two of us.” 

Harry makes a little noise and Eggsy is starting to recognise the helplessly-in-lust look, the totally-fucking-gone look as the one that means Harry will do absolutely anything Eggsy asks him for and he'll fucking love it, too. Future-Eggsy’s obviously on board with it,  got over the surprise he still has now that sometimes Harry wants it rough, that he likes being manhandled. Not all the time: sometimes they both like it when Harry takes charge and he does an amazing line in cool, posh authority that turns Eggsy into horny jelly, but sometimes it flips around and he wants to be Eggsy’s for whatever Eggsy wants to do with him; sometimes he obviously just wants a good dicking and ain't shy about it, and that's about the hottest thing Eggsy has ever seen in his life. Being begged, being wanted like that is so thrilling, and in those moments it doesn't feel like it's about how much Harry respects and admires him, loves the bones of him: it's just physical, like he wants Eggsy because he's the best fuck he can get. It feels like it should cheapen it but if anything it only makes it better, and his future self is right: it’s two-on-one, they’re in charge, and Harry knows it.

Future-Eggsy separates off and grabs Harry for himself, who goes willingly.  He’s rock hard and dark eyed, looking meekly at December-Eggsy, waiting to see if he’ll be allowed another kiss. Future-Eggsy slips his hand down between Harry's legs and then laughs, deep and soft, against his mouth.

“Oh! Had a nice shower, did we?”

“You…” Harry points with his thumb to current Eggsy “...might have made an amount of promises.” Eggsy had been fully aware that Harry had ideas anw would get at least half way prepared himself, but hearing it still sends a bolt of heat down him.

“Well, don't let me interrupt,” and he goes to pull away but Harry shoots a hand out to grab him around the wrist and put his hand back exactly where it was. December-Eggsy doesn't waste any more time in slipping one finger in, pulling Harry close and Eggsy can tell from the angle of his arm and the look on Harry’s face that he’s slid in all the way without resistance. A second finger is just as easy, and Future-Eggsy only has to change the position of his hand to get in a third, still laughing, teasing, against Harry’s mouth. He swipes the lube from the dresser and tops up, and the scrunch of Harry’s face as Future-Eggsy pushes those fingers back in and starts working him is one not of any discomfort but of bliss.

Oh, that's lovely to watch. It's always one of Eggsy's favourite bits in porn on the rare occasion they include much of it: watching the bottom get warmed up, teased a bit until they're gagging for it, spreading their legs open and asking for more with their body if not their voice, getting ready to beg. … Like that, actually. 

Eggsy shucks his boxers down then off, rolls a tonguefull of spit into his palm and wraps his hand around his cock properly.  Weird it may well be but you don't waste a show like this. From this distance he can see how Harry is fighting not to rush, not to ask for more than he's given even though he's rippling with the movements of Future-Eggsy's fingers and his eyelids are fluttering like his eyes are rolling back underneath.  He watches as Harry shakes himself back into the moment, still unable to help himself gasping at the sight of one Eggsy intent above him and another off to the side, patiently stroking himself to the sight of them. 

“Why don't I... make myself useful?” 

It's so polite, so deferrential and undemanding that somehow it's leagues hotter than the more graphic alternative would be. Pre-Harry, Eggsy wouldn't have thought there was a greater thrill than being begged for it, but knowing someone wants you enough to come out the other side of gagging to suck your cock and into ‘but only if it's not too much trouble for you’ is mind blowing. It would still be fucking rude to say no, wouldn't it?

Harry wriggles his top half over, careful not to dislodge Future-Eggsy from between his legs and somehow it's hot how awkward it is, dignity out the fucking window. Warm, wet mouth finally closing around Eggsy’s cock - while he’s still fucking holding it, like Harry would bite his fingers to get at it - is heaven. 

“Yours weren't a bad idea actually. Chuck us that tie bruv?” The absurdity of addressing yourself as bruv hangs in the air for a second - it’s closer to accuracy than it might be, in some ways- and Harry makes a pathetic, miffed little noise as December-Eggsy pulls his fingers out of him and turns him over with a little slap on the arse. He's decidedly less disgruntled once he realises he can get his knees underneath himself and go down on Eggsy’s cock properly, and yeah, Eggsy can get behind that enthusiasm.

Of course, he is actually also behind him, catching the tie by the wide end as it squiggles through the air, and securing Harry's hands at the small of his back in a nice neat knot.  Eggsy wonders where those handcuffs are, now. Wonders whether they’re legit police ones or fluffy sex ones - neither would surprise him - and whether there’s anything else stashed away.  They haven’t played with props or toys much, and it’s not like they need to but he’d be a bloody idiot to turn down trying anything with Harry. 

“Comfy?” 

Harry nods, not interrupting what he's doing to the head of Eggsy’s cock with his tongue, which is much appreciated and evidently far more important to him than Other-Eggsy’s scout badge level bondage skills. He'd be able to get out of just about anything anyway: Eggsy knows even now that with Harry's training, no restraint he could put him in would be any more than a token, but he guesses the sensation of having his wrists secured in soft silk, that gesture of making himself  ‘helpless’ - woe is him, right? - for Eggsy to play with would be right up Harry’s alley. It certainly doesn’t put him off the blowjob, even as he changes angle for balance, and then again when he’s yanked up by the hips.

Harry moans long and low as December-Eggsy slides his slicked-up cock into him in one slow push, all the way to the hilt, and that moan goes through Eggsy like an electric current. December-Eggsy takes a second to pull a blissfully pained face at him and give him a thumbs up that he flips into the okay sign, and much as Eggsy wholeheartedly agrees with his emoji-esque review of the feeling of sinking balls deep into Harry's well-lubed, eager arse, he doesn't return the gesture because he feels like Harry's experience requires him to maintain -at least where he can see - some semblance of chill. So he threads one hand into Harry’s hair and tries to look a bit cool.

It doesn't last, because the moment Harry takes Eggsy’s cock all the way back in his throat his head spins out and he's moaning at the feel of it. He can't help it. Ordinarily Harry’s all measured skill, meted out in such precise doses as to keep Eggsy wound up and simmering for as long as possible, but adequately distracted he’s just an enthusiastic, drooling mess. There’s none of the teasing, or the finesse: just a warm wet throat that’s only too happy to have Eggsy thrusting into it at his leisure whilst he watches the action unfold, and the further in Eggsy pushes, the rougher they both get, the happier Harry’s muffled little noises sound.

“Takes it well, don’ ‘e?” Future-Eggsy’s voice is tight but low, husky almost, and he doesn’t look up from his own hold on Harry’s arse as he speaks.  “Look at him. Can't get enough of it.”

Apparently, that turns Eggsy on. Future-him knows that enough to exploit it, which means that some time between now and December, Eggsy is going to have any number of experiences that give him this far better understanding of how to unpick these things that get both of them going, and he gets the feeling this is only the start of it. It helps, the way Harry’s face is tight with pleasure that looks like effort to cope with, like his eyes might start watering where Eggsy’s fucking his mouth but Eggsy trusts him enough to tap out if this wasn’t exactly how he wanted it. And, though it’s weird to admit it, he likes the way Future-Eggsy talks dirty, fucking  _ loves _ what it’s obviously doing to Harry, hearing himself talked about like he’s not even there whilst they’re fucking him.

“You ain’t  never got to worry about not bein’  _ experienced  _ enough,” he starts up again like it’s conversational, passing the time of day, keeping an admirable check on the regularity of his breathing considering the pounding he’s giving Harry’s arse. “Blokes his own age couldn't keep up with him. Needs a young stud to make sure he gets fucked right.”  It seems a bit much, but Future-Eggsy winks at him and nods down so Eggsy notices the blissed out look on Harry's face. Gives him another smack on the arse and a squeeze. “Ain't that right Harry?”

Harry nearly chokes swallowing his own saliva down and breathes out “Yes Eggsy” all immediate, like he'd say that to anything, do anything just so he’ll keep getting what he needs. What they all need, because Future-Eggsy loses his ability to put on composure at that.

“Sorry mate,” he directs at Eggsy and then he grabs Harry by the hair and pulls him back to ride into him, biting his lip and letting his head drop back and  _ Jesus that looks good _ . They should fuck in front of mirrors. Make videos. Anything. Harry needs to see what he looks like, all helpless with pleasure on Eggsy’s cock. Eggsy needs to see more of that, from every angle possible, all the time. 

Eggsy fists his own cock again, not with any purpose, just to take the edge off now Harry’s not sucking it, but he could definitely wank to coming over this. Harry would probably love that too if he was watching, but he’s not.

Future-Eggsy pulls him up further, his back against his chest, hand coming to wind around the front of Harry’s throat, seething into his ear and snarling as he fucks him.

Eggsy's a little ashamed of the way his cock twitches so insistently in his hand at that, but it's a beautiful picture. He's a bit taken back by how harsh he's being, by how much Harry is obviously loving it, his totally ignored cock not flagging at all, his tummy tense, mouth open for a stream of quiet moans Eggsy can barely here from there. 

He needs some of that. And before he can really think whether it's the right thing to do or not he's grabbing Harry by the shoulders and pulling him down, and other Eggsy says something like  _ “that's more fuckin’ like it _ ” when Eggsy pushes his cock into Harry's mouth again.

Harry whines desperately and a shrill buzz of pleasure goes up Eggsy’s back from the vibration along his cock, let alone his enthusiasm, how obviously and visibly Harry’s getting off on being pulled about like a ragdoll, like the two boys fucking him would fight over the use of his body if they couldn't share.  _ He loves it.  _ And Eggsy’s doing that for him.

Breaking at last, Harry drops his hips and presses his straining prick into the bedcovers, whining around his mouthful at the relief of it. Eggsy can't tell if he's trying to come or trying not to. Either way, future Eggsy has his card marked. 

“No, Harry.” He pulls him back up to where he wants him by the hips, and Eggsy doesn’t know if his own jolt of pleasure is at the movement or the talking. “You don't get to come until we both have. Until we’re done with you. Then you can have yours.”

Where…  _ when _ does he learn to talk like that? And look what it does to Harry, who stills on what looks like a desperate rub, giving Eggsy a good, obedient suck and bowing his back to present the future version with the best angle at his arse. He’s a vision, all supplicant and desperate, shameless in wanting to please Eggsy - either of them, both, - and wait for his reward. He’s loud, though, broken noises of pleasure he makes in his throat because his mouth is too stuffed full of cock to speak, and Future-Eggsy joins him with a series of clipped, winded little huffs of both pleasure and effort as the speed of his thrusts picks up seemingly without his input. His white-knuckled grip on Harry’s hips is going to leave bruises. 

“I'm almost there babes, you're so good for me. You want that, yeah? Want me to come in you?”

Eggsy almost passes out as Harry burbles mindless enthusiasm around his dick. 

“Or on your face. I can do both today, ain't you lucky.”

Eggsy’s future self gives him a look that he recognises as  _ any time you like mate  _ and really,  how he's lasted this long with Harry grunting and slobbering around his cock is beyond him. There's just too much going on. His brain is all the way there and half way back and somehow - mercifully - his body hasn't quite got the message or he'd have been done for long ago. 

It's probably for the best that Harry's head’s not in the game: he's not doing much more for present Eggsy's cock than keeping it warm and wet, and the occasional rub of tongue - still heaven, don't get him wrong - and he's a bit worried about choking Harry if he takes what he wants. So Eggsy pulls his cock from Harry’s mouth and jerks himself off with quick flicks of his wrist and the slip of Harry’s spit. It hits him like a fireball all at once and he pulls Harry back by the hair; Harry just has the time and the sense to shut his eyes before Eggsy’s shooting over his lips,chin and cheek and the real pleasure hits him in the guts as he sees the first splashes land, aftershocks blazing along his nerve endings and wringing him out. 

Eggsy holds him there  - partly because it looks beautiful in a way that makes his body keep shuddering and his cock keep twitching, partly so Harry won’t get spunk fucking everywhere if he can’t hold himself up - whilst Future-Eggsy finishes. It’s not long: he’s pulling Harry greedily, brutally back onto his cock and grunting with the effort; Harry’s past moaning and just leaning into Eggsy’s grip on him, flexing against his bound hands as he takes it, looking like he could go off at the slightest touch but like he’s enjoying it more because December-Eggsy so obviously doesn’t care. A couple more thrusts, a bit of nonsense swearing and December-Eggsy rams right into the hilt, goes still and crumples over Harry’s back.

The tie is wrestled off Harry’s wrists and both of Eggsy support him up to sitting. Even Eggsy knows you can’t just drop someone when you’ve done something like that to them even if they  _ are _ obviously enjoying it, and he feels all warm hearing his future self shushing and fussing at Harry, telling him how gorgeous and loved he is, and Harry’s shaking. Part of that might be that his hard-on is sapping the strength from the rest of his body, because  _ christ _ , and Eggsy’s a bit pissed off at his future self for not trying to hold out until Harry came because he’d love to have watched that from here… but he supposes deciding to do it differently next time might cause the fabric of the universe to collapse in on itself, which seems a bit much, and it ain’t like they’re out of fun options.

December-Eggsy seems to remember the exact second he decides what they’re going to do, grins at him, and chucks Eggsy his t-shirt that was hanging over the side of the wash basket. 

Eggsy wipes the worst of the mess off Harry’s face before he kisses him - he’s licked it off his lips himself, the dirty fuck, although he might not have had much choice in the matter - because there won’t be nothing hot about it after a while, but a couple of glistening smears remain and none of them are about stopping to get properly clean at that exact second.  Then he settles Harry comfortably on the edge of the bed, passes him his half-finished martini, and gets to his knees on the floor. Sure enough Other-Eggsy joins him, and Harry suddenly finds the strength to sit up properly so that he can look.

It takes a moment to shake the sensation of wariness whilst his brain is telling him he's going to head butt a mirror, but Eggsy manages to lean in and kiss his future self whilst he takes up a steadying grip round the base of Harry’s rigid, throbbing cock. Future-Eggsy takes to licking up the underneath of Harry’s dick and straight into Eggsy’s open mouth where he’s sucking at the head, and for a moment Eggsy wonders if they’ll end up in a tussle about who’s got to do the work but this is him, two of him, so all that happens is they both go to try to outdo each other and there is an amount of very wet tongue sliding over the head of Harry's cock and each other. It's all a bit slimy but Eggsy will get over it, especially as Other-Eggsy’s tongue tastes hyper-sweet, rum and coke, but on top of that he can taste the spread of Harry’s leaking excitement between their mouths as they snog happily around the head of his dick. 

He's hesitant because it is definitely time to get Harry off and that can't feel like much, but then he looks up and  _ as if  _ Harry fucking cares at this point. He's squinting at him - at them- in the sheer desperation to keep his eyes open, to sear this into his memory because clearly finishing to this image once will not do it justice, and there's a rewardingly painful yank in Eggsy’s hair as Harry groans, spasms, comes in Eggsy’s mouth. Eggsy doesn’t even get a chance to swallow it before Future-Eggsy is on him,  tonguing it from his mouth which is so filthy it makes a fresh flush of excitement roll through Eggsy’s body, but he’s happy to share because hey, they both earned that and maybe,  _ maybe _ he's not completely adverse to the way he kisses.

Of course, he realises too late that it’s been a good five minutes since he came, and five minutes spent playing with Harry’s body, kissing and being kissed, hands all over Eggsy's sweaty, tingling body and the taste of come is easily enough to pique his interest, and the ragged panting from the bed leaves him smug in the knowledge that he will  _ not _ be getting a second round out of Harry for some time.

Which again, does not leave him out of options.

“Come on. Shower,” says December-Eggsy, pulling him up and in the direction of the bathroom by the hand, and it’s pretty bloody obvious that he doesn’t just mean a shower. Eggsy’s strangely embarrassed, almost nervous, that he wants to go along with it.

“Harry?”

Harry, laying sprawled on the bed exactly where he slumped back onto it, like he’s melted, waves regally at him. “No, no. I’ll let you have your privacy. Both of you.” And he obviously thinks that’s hilarious, the slow, doped up grin that spreads over his face. 

Eggsy sets the shower running and December-Eggsy pushes him back against the door whilst it warms up, kissing him hard and messy and full of tongue. He does like a good snog. He got that from Harry, who spent many an hour at the beginning of their relationship patiently slowing Eggsy down, drawing him out until they could spend long, lazy afternoons necking and grinding on the sofa, building up long and slow rather than just getting at it the moment Eggsy popped a boner. In his own defence he was twenty four and used to partners that didn’t have any more patience than he did. But what Eggsy has found he really likes is having his neck and ears teased, licked, nibbled at, and his future self obviously wants him on-side and has him moaning and molten in seconds. It’s almost unfair.

Inside the shower it’s humid, loud with their enclosed heavy breathing and the slashing of the water reflected back by the tiles; close even though Eggsy knows for a fact there’s plenty of room for two. They don't really  _ do _ sex in the shower, as Harry had rightly pointed out that not only do they not end up getting clean, or saving any time, but they could have better sex just about anywhere else in the house with pointedly less risk of slipping a disc. That said, there is something very visually pleasing about water cascading over a nice body, about the way soap foam looks on skin, the way it feels when Futur- Eggsy gets up behind him, reaches around and closes his soapy hand around Eggsy’s cock.

After a couple of seconds of psychological wrangling, Eggsy gives up, leans forwards and braces his hands on the shower wall. He trusts his future self to know that he won’t be in the mood to get fucked, but for some reason the feel of being close to it, almost like it’s a threat, gets him going and there’s no sense being shy about that when they both know it. He’s guessing that’s why December-Eggsy presses right up behind him, hard cock nudging against Eggsy’s arse whilst he takes him properly in hand and starts to toss him off real slow, making allowances for the fact he’s already gone a round not long ago or maybe because he knows he'd never have that patience by himsef and it does feel amazing.  


Eggsy shuts his eyes against the dripping water and the tension, and just lets himself enjoy all the stimulation, the drumming of the waterfall shower on his skin, the smell of sweet lime. The hand around his prick feels different even though it's his: his technique and knowledge with the benefit of a little unpredictability and not being able to feelhimself doing it. He wonders if there’s any truth to that urban legend about sitting on your hand until it goes numb so it feels like someone else is wanking you off. He pushes back, bends over a bit more and Future-Eggsy gives him a slap on the arse.

“Pack that in, ‘cos I know you ain’t offerin’.” It’s almost  a whisper, almost a growl and the echo still makes it deafening. Eggsy wonders if Harry can hear them.  December-Eggsy gives him a few more long, slow pulls and then grabs him by the forearm and turns him so they’re face to face.

God, that doesn’t get any less weird.

“Shut your eyes,” encourages Future-Eggsy, slipping his arm around Eggsy’s waist and kissing along the dripping line of his jaw. “Think about how good Harry looked getting fuckin’ spitroasted like that. How much he as  _ loving  _ it.”

“He's so-” Eggsy trails off into a groan as slick fingers twist over the head of his cock, not quite like Harry’s desperate tongue.

Other-Eggsy smirks. “Yeah, your perfect gentleman’s a real whore for it.”

“How do you- how do I do that? Make him get like that?” He’s getting breathless, and it occurs to Eggsy that he probably should be doing his share, but it would be so good just to lay back against the tiles and let it happen.

“He's already like that. Fuckin' mad for you. You just gotta own it, and call him out on it.” The grip on Eggsy’s cock disappears, replaced with blunt, hard pressure, and Eggsy realises his future self is lining their slipery cocks up to press against each other. It’s not something he’s ever done. The price he pays for tiptoe kisses, for chin-on-shoulder cuddling and being picked up like he’s some scrap of a thing is that this just wouldn’t work, so the sensation of December-Eggsy rolling his hips so that their dicks slide against each other is totally new to him.  “Tell him what you're going to do to him and what he's got to do to earn it and -” Future-Eggsy snaps his fingers, like a gunshot ricocheting off the tiles. 

Eggsy can believe it.

“It's alright. Don't mean you gotta take charge all the time.” Future-Eggsy grips onto his hips as if to prove that point, and to guide them into a rhythm so that they can hump together smoothly without catching or jabbing at each other; the fat ridge of the head of Other-Eggsy’s cock drags up the underneath of his and sends a bright plume of pleasure up his back; teeth scrape over the thundering pulse in Eggsy’s neck and he twitches with it. His other self groans, deeper than Eggsy feels like he sounds, and that makes him hot too.  He’s close again already. “He’ll still put you in your place and tell you what a good boy you are. S’why you’re so good together. And I promise it’s only getting better.” A smug little smirk, but his breath hitches, and his hands go around to grab bruising handfuls of Eggsy’s arse cheeks and pull them together that way. 

Eggsy thinks how they looked fucking today; how Harry looked when he let Future-Eggsy tie his hands and pull his hair and hold him around the neck whilst he fucked him raw and hard, the slapping of skin, the way Harry’s cock bounced with it, flushed and dripping.  The fantasy doesn’t really fit with the wet friction against his cock but it doesn’t matter because that feels like heaven, just hard enough and soft enough to work him up.  _ He’s bought fucking handcuffs,  _ and suddenly instead of the obvious Eggsy decides the first thing he’s going to do when they come out is cuff Harry’s hands over his head and sit on his face. That’s probably because of the way Future-Eggsy is rubbing and squeezing at his arse, slippery fingers just sliding into and along his crack, not quite touching, but getting closer with every stroke. Having his hole teased at the right moment always tends to make him come pretty quick, and Future-Eggsy reads that expertly, times it perfectly to just rub over him and send him spiraling over the edge into the freefall of orgasm, spunk spattering over their stomachs and dripping over December-Eggsy’s cock. His knees wobble at the peak of it but his other self’s got him, still rubbing against him and nosing at his ear.

And then it’s time to return the favour because he is, first and foremost, a gentleman, and if he doesn’t he’ll hardly thank himself in December. So he soaps Future-Eggsy up again and keeps going, one hand holding Future-Eggsy’s cock softly in place against the flesh of his lower belly as he keeps thrusting them together, the other groping at his chest, stroking up his tummy and tweaking his nipples the way there's literally nothing stopping him doing when he’s by himself but he doesn't because it feels stupid. Future-Eggsy rewards him by bracing himself with one hand against the shower wall, dropping his head forward onto Eggsy’s shoulder and coming in thick pulses over his hand, over their bodies again, moaning in the back of his nose like it hurts.

Eggsy's going to have to get a cotton bud out to make sure there isn’t jizz residue in his bellybutton because even Harry isn’t rank enough to like that. 

The two versions of Eggsy help each other rinse off, then, but it’s mostly for comfort: the mess already taken care of, washed away in the cooling water. Shower sex may well be awkward and borderline dangerous but shower wanks are the way forward. Even though they’re spent and tired there’s a weird intimacy to it, though how platonic Eggsy expects two blokes rubbing each other down in a shower to ever be is probably worth questioning. His other self leans close, as if to kiss, but whispers instead: “We’re being watched.” 

Eggsy straightens up and turns around to look. He hadn't missed the door opening, but it had been around when he was coming and he couldn’t quite bring himself to stop;  he'd be surprised if Harry was ready for another round at any point tonight, and he’s just shit out of luck if he wants either of Eggsy to go again now. 

What he had not expected was for Harry to be sitting on the closed toilet lid with a sketch pad on his lap, a broad page littered with doodles and barely fleshed out stick figures,  hazy from speed, smudging and the suggestion of frosted glass and steam. The largest sketch is a side profile of their flush bodies from shoulder to knee, all the rude bits hidden by thigh but it's obvious what's going on from the angles of the arms, the dips in the backs. 

Eggsy walks around to stand beside him and get a proper look, careful not to drip on the paper as he towels off. “That's gorgeous, Harry.”

“Yes, you are.”

It  _ does  _ sound like he thinks a lot of himself, complimenting a picture of him at it with another one of himself, perhaps because he was even doing it in the first place. A hint of shame’s creeping in, thinking Harry watched him like that and didn’t get another invite to join in, but Harry is soft, content. He’s furrowing his brow at the sketches, thinking.

“Watercolour, not charcoal,” cuts in Future-Eggsy from the doorway, where he’s stuffing himself, damp, commando, into his suit trousers. He could stay, Eggsy supposes, but he’s got his own day, his own Harry to be getting back to, and now the mood’s changed, Harry doesn’t really need two of him. “Don't bother buying more, you never know what people might have got you for your birthday, but it looks real good above the dresser. Classy.”

Visibly shored up, Harry cocks his head at his own sketchpad, nods, and finishes the bottom right hand corner with ‘ _ Narcissus _ ‘, a couple of squiggles that could be Hs and the date. 

Leaving Harry to have the bathroom to himself, Eggsy makes his way back to the bed via picking up the discarded lube, tie, towel off the floor. Future-Eggsy finishes redressing - loosely, his tie just draped around his shoulders so he won't forget it - and hands the glasses that he left on the counter in the bathroom back to Eggsy, who obviously looks as dim and sex-addled as he feels.

“They're yours,” December-Eggsy says patiently and when Eggsy puts them on, a greyed out box in the middle of the lens, waiting to be dismissed, reads  _ Saved. _ He takes them off to see Future-Eggsy grinning. 

“Well, he might need a little more reference material when he gets round to doing his painting, yeah? But you might have to play it to him, like, six or seven times before he can even pick up a pencil." He keeps smiling, simultaneously daft and dirty, and Eggsy hasn't noticed those lines at the edges of his eyes, maybe doesn't even have them yet. They're alright. "He missed the whole bit with the reacharound and you know what he's like.”

Eggsy nods, too tired and satisfied to get worked up about all that now but sure as fuck that it'll come in time,  folds the glasses and sets them in their spot on the dressing table, next to Harry's. Future-Eggsy fastens his watch, fiddles around with the controls, and winks at him.

“Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do.”  With that, he gives Eggsy the weirdest little peck on the lips and disappears.

Eggsy snorts. _Don't do anything I wouldn't do._ He'll have to remember that, that's hilariou-  
  
Oh. 

The tap runs; Eggsy turns off the lights and settles into bed with the duvet back so all Harry has to do is collapse next to him. When the bathroom door opens, a flash of colour in the panel of light catches Eggsy's eye.

A pair of vibrant rainbow-and-black pants lay crumpled on the floor by the washbasket.

**Author's Note:**

> There we are! There is at least one, possibly more than one more sequel/installment in the works, and encouragement really does help keep me motivated so I'll be ever grateful for your comments, messages, feedback etc. lease do get in touch if you have any thoughts or ideas you'd like to see in those. I can always start a new one! And again, super thanks to those who chat fic with me and keep me writing.
> 
> I often think "wow, this is the smuttiest thing I've ever dared" whilst I'm writing but I think this one may actually have taken the biscuit. Thank you for reading!
> 
> ([ Tumblr. ](https://randomactsofviolence.tumblr.com/)).


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